


And Time's of the Essence

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Distress and Disarray [48]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Feelings, Kidnapping, M/M, Peril, Protectiveness, Rank Disparity, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 12:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: In which Washington receives some good news, and Hamilton is still out of reach.





	And Time's of the Essence

Washington knows he should pay attention to the negotiations unfolding before him, even if the hope of clues may be a long shot. 

Burr's continuing investigations have crystallized their most plausible theory into a near certainty: the parties responsible for the kidnapping are _not_ privy to the complicated diplomacy of this chamber. But that doesn't mean there is no information to be gleaned. If Washington pays attention to the subtlest interactions, surely he can piece together patterns of unspoken history and alliance. Who breezes into the room as though they own the place? Who genuflects to which passing dignitaries? Who retreats into the background without making eye contact?

Washington is supposed to artfully fade beneath notice alongside the members of his security team. He's not entirely confident he's been succeeding, especially after three days of wondering if his missing officers are safe.

Of wondering if _Hamilton_ is safe.

He can't fathom how Burr has managed to come and go so often without drawing attention, but even now Washington is certain his security chief is well outside the bounds of the diplomatic compound. He has not seen Burr in nearly four hours—long enough to ignite irrational hope that maybe the prolonged absence heralds good news.

It could just as easily herald disaster—a change is not guaranteed to be for the better. But Washington clings to the flicker of hope, hoarding it jealously as he waits in an agony of anticipation.

Von Steuben has also been absent from official proceedings today, though unlike Burr there is nothing surreptitious about the ambassador's absence. All through the negotiation, von Steuben has been allowed to come and go at will. His high station gives him free run of the compound, while his low standing among his fellows renders him soundly peripheral.

As such, Washington pays no mind when von Steuben enters the massive hall with neither fanfare nor flourish. His appearance does not interrupt the loud stream of argument, and he does not approach the table.

When he makes his way directly to Washington's side, the general abruptly begins to pay attention.

Von Steuben smiles and—in a gesture that looks no more conspicuous than a quick greeting—slips a small piece of paper into Washington's hand. Then he is navigating smoothly away, moving into position among the Federation's other delegates as though simply arriving late. He doesn't so much as glance over his shoulder, offers no further acknowledgment of Washington at all.

Washington reads the slip of paper. _Meet me outside_.

He does not know what Burr's handwriting looks like—other than Hamilton, Washington has never seen any of his officers write anything down on paper—but the script on the page is exactly what he might have predicted. Compact, precise, controlled. Washington tucks the note in a pocket of his uniform and raises his eyes, summoning one of his officers with a wordless glance. The woman slips into Washington's place—a ceremonial position with no tangible impact on the room's security—and Washington slips away, not especially caring if his superiors spot him across the gallery.

He finds Burr waiting on the same balcony where they have met multiple times already.

"Report, Colonel."

Burr snaps to attention. "Sir. I found them. My team is moving in with local authorities even as we speak. I'm set to rendezvous with them before they engage."

With Washington's wordless nod of encouragement, more detailed explanations follow. A blip of renewed signal, a code, a tracing of energy signatures to a mobile facility currently located at the outskirts of the city. A small but powerful assembly of Starfleet officers and law enforcement personnel standing by. There will be public accusations and consequences to come—Washington is abreast enough of the political situation to follow when Burr names the responsible parties—but in this moment Washington does not care who will face what fallout.

Even his anger at the people responsible can't undermine his relief that Hamilton will soon be safe at his side—or the equally potent anxiety that comes of wondering what might yet go wrong.

"Sir?" Burr's voice cuts through the spiral of Washington's thoughts. "Are you all right?"

"I will be." There's no point lying to an officer as canny as Burr.

"Forgive my presumption, General, but perhaps you should return to your quarters."

"My quarters?" Washington's brow furrows.

"Yes, sir. Maybe you're tired? My team will return via the compound medical facilities, but you can't very well be waiting there when we arrive."

Burr is right. Of course Washington can't simply wait in the medical wing for no reason. Such a position would be far too brazen for even Admirals Braddock and Dinwiddie to ignore.

"Report to me the second you complete your objective."

"Of course," Burr agrees with a nod. "You'll be the first to know when we arrive."

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Hoard, Genuflect, Crystalline


End file.
